


Happy Birthday

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Birthday Sex, M/M, Scars, angsty mcangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: “Isn’t it time to start making new memories?” Cloud asked.“You say that like you don’t have your own personal demons. As if you aren’t stuck in the past also.”“I’m learning to move on, Vincent. I have my own scars. Most of them aren’t on the surface like yours, but they’re there. I still have the scar from when Sephiroth ran me through with his sword. Want to see?” Before Vincent could say anything Cloud was leaning up to undo his shirt, pulling it up over his head. As promised, there was a large scar that ran through the middle of his stomach. Vincent tugged off his glove and traced it.“I don’t know if I can move on,” Vincent said quietly. “Lucrecia . . .”“Wouldn’t want you to spend all of eternity stuck in the same cycle of negative thoughts,” Cloud finished for him, interrupting. “I’m sure she wants you to experience things that she can’t give you.”





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Because Strifentine needs more love.

Vincent had smashed his phone, took the little chip that tracked his location and tossed it into the water at the edge of a lake in Kalm and hid himself from society, so when he heard the roar of a motorcycle in the town, he lifted the heavy drapes from his window and peered out into the distance, surprised. He knew the sound—Fenrir. He frowned when he confirmed his thought, spotting the top of that tell-tale spiky hair. He cursed softly under his breath. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed here, but the town was quiet and the hotel proprietor didn’t ask questions. He’d transferred his funds every first of the month—a tidy sum. He wished everyone else wasn’t as curious, that he would be left to his solitude, but as he watched Cloud secure his bike and walk toward the hotel he contemplated breaking the window and climbing the roof. He chastised himself mentally. Cloud was supposed to be his friend, and friends were supposed to be let in, but ever since the ascension of Omega, he’d been weak and powerless, and it was a familiar feeling. Too familiar. He’d thought his weakness would be seen as a chance for his inner demons, but they were decidedly quiet, especially Chaos, who was weakened itself.

Vincent dropped the curtain and did the only thing that seemed sensible. He waited.

When the soft knock on his door came, he almost jumped, despite knowing it was coming. He stood rigidly and went to the door, slowly undoing the latches and opened it just a crack.

“Vincent,” Cloud said in his low careful voice.

“Cloud,” Vincent said, his voice deep and gravelly with disuse.

“Let me in,” Cloud whispered, as if he was stepping into some holy place. Minerva’s sacred ground or Aerith’s dilapidated church.

Vincent opened the door the rest of the way, but didn’t move aside. Cloud looked like he was deciding whether or not to push past him when he hesitantly stepped aside. Cloud stepped past him, taking in the state of the room. It barely looked lived in. The bed was made, the curtains drawn. The only way he could tell Vincent had been living here was a series of guns on the bedside desk, all of them lying in pieces except for Cerberus, which stood out amongst them with its distinctive engraving and chain.

“What are you doing here?” Vincent asked. It sounded rougher than he intended it to come out, cold. But then he reminded himself of why he had escaped everyone in the first place. He crossed his arms over his chest, peering at Cloud through the fall of his hair.

“I. Uh. Don’t really know.” Cloud was a terrible liar. There was always a weighty silence between them that was pregnant with possibility. They’d shared a bed before on their quest—more than a few times to save gil. He wasn’t sure why they had paired up, but he knew Cloud chose him. Perhaps because he was quiet. Vincent remembered Cloud’s nightmares, his own uselessness. He didn’t know how to soothe anyone’s misery, had never been good at it. He was good at shooting first, asking questions later. Nothing else. Once a Turk, always a Turk. But he’d always remembered how he’d wanted to touch Cloud, to soothe his aching heart. He just never did—never acted on his desires, because what use were his desires? Everything he touched turned to ash. He was no good to anyone. That’s why he’d gone away in the first place.

But maybe he’d wanted to be found. Maybe that’s why he stayed in Kalm, his last known location, waiting silently for the impossible.

“You came here with a purpose. You always have a purpose. You don’t do anything you don’t want to.” And it was true. Cloud had spent his life doing what he didn’t want to do. Now that things were decidedly quieter, he’d fought back against what others wanted from him.

“Maybe,” Cloud said. “Maybe I just wanted to see you. It’s your birthday, you know. An important one. You’re sixty today. Tifa wanted me to bring you to Edge to properly celebrate, but. Well. I know how you are. You didn’t want us to know.”

“No,” Vincent agreed. “I did not wish for anyone to know. And I did not wish for anyone to know my whereabouts. And time doesn’t exist for one such as I,” he sighed. It was true. Thirty years in his coffin had blinked by like a small nap. He was ageless—had died at twenty-seven and continued to look that way.

“You gonna tell me time is a construct?” Cloud joked. Vincent did not laugh.

“Time is a cruel mistress when you have an eternity to atone for your sins,” Vincent said darkly.

“Still don’t get what you did wrong,” Cloud muttered.

“I have done plenty of things I regret, Cloud.” His arms crossed over one another and he tapped his talons one by one as if impatient. And maybe he was impatient for this interaction to end, but he knew deep inside he wasn’t.

“Yeah, well, people miss you, Vincent. They’re tired of waiting for you to come back.”

“People, or you?” Vincent asked, raising one delicate black brow. Cloud scratched at his head and gave Vincent a sheepish look.

“Well, I’m one of ‘em,” he said, shrugging. “I always, well, let’s say I appreciated your presence in those days. I could always depend on you.” Vincent knew it wasn’t just that. Couldn’t be—not with Cloud purposely seeking him out. Maybe it was half true.

“You must be tired from your journey,” Vincent said, switching topics. “If you want to rest, you may do so.”

“Bed looks like you haven’t slept in it in weeks,” Cloud pointed out.

“I don’t need to sleep,” Vincent said. He’d tried, but the nightmares were always the same, and he’d woken from them screaming her name, a hole in his heart, in his soul. So no, he did not sleep.

“You look tired,” Cloud commented. “Why don’t we rest together, like old times?” he said, smiling softly. He kicked off his boots and climbed into the bed, patting the space next to him. Vincent hesitated a moment before removing his cloak and draping it on the chair in the room, sliding onto the bed beside Cloud after removing his sabatons. He turned away from him so they were almost back to back. After a minute of silence Cloud turned over and draped himself against Vincent, hugging him close. It was unexpected and Vincent tensed. It had been over thirty years since someone touched him like this and his brain was yelling at himself for allowing it, so he carefully took hold of Cloud’s fingers and moved them aside. Part of him wanted the touch—he was so starved for human connection, but on the other hand he was a monster who deserved nothing. Certainly not Cloud’s touch. Cloud, who was so pure—the planet’s champion.

“I’ve wanted you for a very long time,” Cloud confessed, pressing himself against Vincent’s back. “That first night we slept together in that little bed after we woke you from your coffin? Yeah. Then. I tried so hard not to touch you. To keep my desires unknown.”

“Why are you telling me now?” Vincent asked. He turned over and looked in Cloud’s eyes, getting lost in the depth of their mako blueness, trailing down to his parted lips, full and lovely.

“I guess I’m not scared to tell you anymore,” Cloud shrugged. “You can tell me to fuck off and I will.”

“ I . . . do not wish for you to go,” he said softly. “You may stay if it is your desire to.”

“Vincent . . . would it be okay if I kissed you?” Cloud asked, tugging off his gloves and setting them aside so he could bury his hands in Vincent’s hair. Vincent tensed once more, especially as Cloud tugged him closer by his hair. Vincent gave an involuntary noise, which he softly chastised himself for. He’d always been weak against people tugging his hair.

“You came here because you missed me,” Vincent said in a low, wondering voice.

“Y-yeah,” Cloud said, his mouth a mere inch from Vincent’s. “I mean, the others miss you too, but they’d never come seek you out. I wanted to. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, Vincent, please, can I kiss you?”

“I . . . don’t want to disappoint you,” Vincent whispered.

“Are you kidding? Look, I’ve built up this moment in my head for years, Vincent. What I was gonna do, what I was gonna say. I just. I don’t want to think anymore. You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

That surprised Vincent. All his scars, all his personal and physical demons, they all amounted to make him feel inferior—less than. It was a long time ago, but he’d been called beautiful once. And ever since then he’d paid for it. His body looked like a roadmap of misery and despair. He yearned for the days when he didn’t look on the outside how he felt on the inside. He was tainted with the blood of his kills—forever.

When he didn’t answer Cloud touched his cheek softly. “Hey . . . where did you go? Stay with me, Vincent.”

“I am sorry,” Vincent said softly. “You . . . may kiss me.”

Cloud smiled and pressed his lips against Vincent’s. At first the kiss was tentative, but then when Vincent didn’t pull away, he pressed his tongue gently to the seam of his mouth and slipped his tongue inside to slick along Vincent’s. Vincent responded slowly, but then he put his need into it. He’d wanted Cloud for just as long, but never really felt like he deserved it. He still didn’t feel like he did, but it was hard to resist when he was here in his bed. And he could feel Cloud getting hard against him. He found he himself was getting hard as they slowly made out, tongues sliding against one another’s, exploring each other’s mouths. Vincent slid his thigh between Cloud’s legs, rubbing it against the hardness he found. He tried to focus on how good it felt, but a growing terror was settling in him that Cloud would want to see him—all of him, and he wasn’t prepared for that. He stopped kissing him, suddenly moving his thigh from his crotch.

“What is it?” Cloud whispered.

“I . . . haven’t done this for a very long time, Cloud. I . . . do not want you to think this will go anywhere.”

“Why not? You want me, don’t you? And I definitely want you . . .” Just as he feared, Cloud reached for the clasps on Vincent’s shirt. With a speed and force he didn’t realize he was exerting out of panic Vincent pushed Cloud’s hand aside. “Vincent. Please. I want to see you.”

“Cloud. I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? I want to see you . . .”

“I have many scars,” Vincent said in a low dark voice. “Just. Rest. I will be here.”

“I don’t want to rest, Vincent. I want you. Isn’t that clear?”

Vincent sighed. “I never planned on letting anyone see, Cloud. I still don’t.”

“Don’t you trust me, Vincent? What are you scared of?”

“I do trust you, Cloud. We’ve been in countless fights I thought we’d never survive.”

“Then what’s the problem? You think a few scars are going to scare me?”

“They aren’t just a few scars,” Vincent whispered. “I’m covered in them.”

“Show me,” Cloud pleaded. He sat up and moved his hands back to Vincent’s shirt, undoing the top few buttons.

“I . . . all right. But they are quite gruesome,” he said. Cloud only continued to undo his shirt until he started to peel it away from Vincent’s form. He revealed a chest covered by a central y-incision scar from an autopsy. Beside it, over his heart, was a fatal bullet wound scar. The rest of his chest was vivisected by smaller scars, which looked like they were made with a a blade. Cloud stared for a long time, and Vincent looked away, not wanting to see the look of horror that was surely on Cloud’s face.

“Vincent, look at me,” Cloud said softly. There was no terror in his voice. Vincent turned his head back to Cloud, realizing he was shaking. Cloud stopped, tracing his fingers over the y-incision. Vincent shook harder. “Tell me how you got these,” he said, leaning down to kiss along the y-incision. Vincent fought the urge to pull him away.

“Hojo,” he said in a low voice. “He shot me. Then he took me apart when I was dead.”

“Is that why you have the gauntlet?” Cloud asked, shifting to kiss the metal fingers.

  
“When I woke up, I couldn’t feel my arm. I don’t know why. But he severed it, took it away. Replaced it with this mechanical monstrosity.”

“Well,” Cloud said, returning to the y-incision to lick it slowly. “I like all your parts. I don’t think they’re gruesome at all.”

“No?” Vincent asked, brushing Cloud’s hair aside with his normal hand.

“No. I think it’s pretty sexy, actually. You survived. These are you battle scars.”

“I didn’t survive, Cloud. I’m dead. I don’t need sleep, I don’t need food. I exist. Like a ghost. Tortured by my memories.”

“Isn’t it time to start making new memories?” Cloud asked.

“You say that like you don’t have your own personal demons. As if you aren’t stuck in the past also.”

“I’m learning to move on, Vincent. I have my own scars. Most of them aren’t on the surface like yours, but they’re there. I still have the scar from when Sephiroth ran me through with his sword. Want to see?” Before Vincent could say anything Cloud was leaning up to undo his shirt, pulling it up over his head. As promised, there was a large scar that ran through the middle of his stomach. Vincent tugged off his glove and traced it.

“I don’t know if I can move on,” Vincent said quietly. “Lucrecia . . .”

“Wouldn’t want you to spend all of eternity stuck in the same cycle of negative thoughts,” Cloud finished for him, interrupting. “I’m sure she wants you to experience things that she can’t give you.”

“Cloud, you don’t really know me,” Vincent said, shaking his head. “I am weak. Very weak.”

“Bullshit,” Cloud said. “You think I’m not powerful enough to deal with your demons? Well. I’m the planet’s champion. If there’s anyone who can tell your demons to fuck off, it’s me.”

Vincent smiled sadly, touched Cloud’s face, and leaned up to press a small kiss to his lips.

“Aren’t you tired of taking things on, making things right?” Vincent asked.

“You’re worth it,” Cloud breathed, kissing Vincent full on the mouth. When he parted the kiss, he started undoing Vincent’s pants. He let him, breathing shallowly. He thought of hiding in the closet, as he’d done over the past few weeks. The darkness and the limited space had comforted him, reminded him of his coffin. He had thought of returning to Nibelheim, to returning to the coffin he had spent so much time in, but the thought had made his stomach turn, and so he hid in spaces that reminded him of the enclosed area. Under the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as if in death; in the closet, sleeping standing up, the nightmares tearing at him regardless. He didn’t remember why he chose Kalm, but he planned on disappearing there. Now that Cloud was above him, pulling his pants off, he felt a sense of surrealism. He never thought anyone would care to come find him. Perhaps that was his mistake. To be told he was worth anything was unbelievable, but it was happening before his eyes, and suddenly he was naked before Cloud.  
He sat up, shifted so that Cloud was beneath him now. He was undoing his pants, pulling them off slowly. His eyes raked over Cloud’s naked body as he tugged the pants the rest of the way off. They were both naked now—had no way to hide. Cloud was compact where he was lithe. He traced his fingers over the blond’s taut stomach muscles, then ran his hand up, tracing the scar again.

“You really want this, with me?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” Cloud breathed. “Can’t you tell? I’m hard.” Vincent looked. His cheeks would have colored if he was alive, warm, but he was dead, and such reactions had long since been forgotten in the book of his history. Cloud was indeed hard. His cock rested against his belly, warm and inviting and achingly hard. For him. Vincent took on the temperature of his surroundings, so he was warm, almost alive, and he lowered his head to take Cloud’s cock in his mouth, looking up at him as if testing the waters. “Hey,” Cloud said, “you don’t have to . . .”

“I want to,” Vincent responded after letting Cloud slip out of his mouth for a moment, sliding his lips back around him after. He sucked him in, hollowing his cheeks and looking up at him. Cloud groaned. His elbows had been propped up, but now they fell away and he collapsed on the bed, head thrown back carelessly, lost in pleasure. Vincent sucked him, stroking the base of his cock as he deep throated him, lost in the sight of Cloud falling apart for him. When he knew Cloud was close by the constant shivering of his thighs, the little twitches and noises falling from his lips, Vincent pulled his mouth away.

“I was going to come,” Cloud said softly, resting on his elbows once more.

“I want you to come with my cock inside you,” Vincent said, kissing Cloud deeply. He himself was hard now just because of Cloud’s reactions. And he realized he didn’t have any lube, so he kissed his way down Cloud’s body and pushed his legs up over his head, licking around the perimeter of his entrance. Cloud made a surprised little noise, looking down at Vincent as he did this.

“You don’t have to do that,” he panted again.

“I know,” Vincent said, sliding his tongue inside him. “I want to.” He slid a finger in alongside his tongue, then leaned up to kiss Cloud as he slid a second finger inside him. Cloud did not balk at the kiss, so he pressed his tongue inside his mouth and kissed hotly as he hooked his fingers for his prostate. When he found it, Cloud arched up off the bed and panted Vincent’s name, which only spurred him on to add a third finger, fanning them all out to stretch him before he removed them and pressed his cock against his hole.

“Fuck me,” Cloud said, eyes burning into Vincent’s, which had gone dark with lust. It’d been so long since he felt such desires, had always repressed them, that everything felt surreal. But Vincent wanted this, to make Cloud feel good, so he pushed inside him slowly. “Do it hard,” Cloud begged, and Vincent obliged, pushing in all the way with one thrust. Cloud clutched onto him, legs over his shoulders and fingers clawing up his back. He started moving, taking the hint from Cloud’s insistent noises and nails in his back, and thrusted into him over and over, building up a rhythm, going harder when Cloud begged him to. He was wonderfully tight and warm around him, and the noises he was making were driving him close to the edge already.

“I’m not going to last long like this,” Vincent gasped. Cloud only pulled his hair, which brought him close to his face, and they were kissing heatedly.

“Come inside me,” Cloud gasped. Vincent felt himself nearing that peak and moved his hand between their bodies to stroke Cloud in time to their fevered movements. It wasn’t long before Vincent cried out and panted that he was going to come. Cloud only hissed “yes” over and over, and when he came hard inside his tight passage, Cloud came too, his muscles spasming over Vincent’s cock, which felt wonderful and overwhelming. He’d forgotten how intense sex was. He was panting against Cloud’s mouth before long, sharing his breath as if he needed it. Cloud was panting too. They looked at each other for a long time before Vincent pulled out and laid by Cloud’s side. Cloud smiled. A genuine smile.

“I needed that,” he said, laughing. “Happy birthday, old man. You still got it.”

“Thanks,” Vincent said, deadpan.

“Think you’ll come back to Edge?” Cloud asked, laying on his side, brushing Vincent’s unruly black hair out of his eyes.

“I might consider it,” Vincent said. “But only because you’re there.”

“Been staying in Aerith’s church. Might find an apartment to rent with you. If you want.”

“I suppose it’s time to come back and be useful,” Vincent sighed.

“We should tell everyone we’re together. I bet it’d break poor Yuffie’s heart.”

“She is just a girl,” Vincent said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you tell her that,” Cloud smirked. “Last time I called her a girl she went off for half an hour about being the white rose of Wutai and threatened to kick my ass.”

“Yes, that sounds like her,” Vincent said, suddenly realizing he felt sleepy.

“Good night, Vincent,” Cloud murmured softly, ducking his head against Vincent’s chest. “So weird you don’t have a heartbeat . . .”

“Good night, Cloud. Sleep well.” And Vincent found himself drifting off, eyes closing. He dreamt of nothing—blissful nothingness.

It was a happy birthday indeed.

 

 


End file.
